I just spent the last 1/2 hour reading the first three chapters of Roald Dahl’s Matilda with Chloe. We finished A Wrinkle in Time yesterday, which she loved. But it was a little intense, and I thought we’d do well to enjoy some lighter fare.
By the third chapter, we were laughing so hard we were crying. It was the image of a little boy with a finger superglued inside his nose that did it. And the language, of course. We laughed and laughed and laughed.
It was actually difficult to put the book down, but I didn’t want to set precedent by reading too much at once, or else she’d be pleading with me to read and read and read every night. And I’d go insane. What I’m hoping is that this might actually be the book that pushes her to read on her own.
You’d think she’d get it. If she reads on her own, she can read when she wants. She wouldn’t need to depend on her mommy’s schedule for reading sessions. She’s a great reader, so that’s not an issue. I like to think that it’s simply because she loves my company and how I read to her.
In the meantime, I will admit that I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow’s visit with Matilda. On second thought, maybe she should wait for the next book before she discovers the joys of reading on her own.